


Snap, Crackle & Pop!

by Small_Hobbit



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-04-23 12:15:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19150849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: Just another ordinary day for the Ankh-Morpork City Watch, except Vimes has brought Young Sam to work with him.  (He had tried not to, but Sybil knew him very well.)





	Snap, Crackle & Pop!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [opalmatrix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalmatrix/gifts).



“You haven’t forgotten you agreed to take Young Sam into work with you today, have you?” Sybil Ramkin said, looking firmly at her husband across the breakfast table.

“No, dear,” Vimes replied.  Or that’s what Sybil thought he said.  The words were disguised by a mouthful of soft-boiled egg.

“Only I notice you’ve left your boots and coat by the door so you can get away as soon as you’ve eaten your breakfast.”

Vimes knew better than to try to deny his possible intentions, so he contented himself with a vague cough which could have been caused by a crumb of toast in his throat but probably wasn’t.

“Good,” said Sybil.  “He’ll be ready in five minutes.”

Young Sam chattered all the way to Pseudopolis Yard with Vimes answering with various non-committal grunts.  He sensed there was something strange about the air but couldn’t put a finger on it.  It was true the air in Ankh-Morpork could be almost thick enough at times for someone to touch, but this wasn’t simply the usual fumes.  Something was almost sizzling.  Vimes sniffed, but the air didn’t smell in the least unusual; he was beginning to worry.

Once they reached the Section House, Vimes called Captain Carrot to join him in his office.

“Can’t I come too?” Young Sam asked.

“No,” Vimes said, “the first thing you need to do is Observation.  I want you to sit there and write, or draw, everything that you see in the next quarter of an hour.”

Young Sam took out a pencil and notebook from the bag Sybil had given him, looked around and began to write.

Meanwhile, Vimes and Carrot were deep in discussion in Vimes’ office.

“There is something odd going on, Carrot,” Vimes said.

“Normally odd or particularly odd?” Carrot enquired.

“Particularly odd.  The air feels all wrong.”

“Yes, Sergeant Angua remarked on that first thing this morning.  She has gone to investigate.  She should be here shortly.”  Carrot swallowed, and Vimes looked at him.

“Is there something else I should be aware of?” Vimes asked.

“Well, there was something strange about her hair.  It wasn’t really standing on end – that would have looked very odd – but it wasn’t sitting flat either.”

Vimes nodded.  That tied in with the sense of sizzling he’d experienced earlier.  Whatever it was boded ill for someone, and that someone was probably him.

Angua had returned by the time Vimes and Carrot had finished their discussion.  Vimes noted the way the first inch of her hair was standing up straight, while the rest of it hung naturally.  It was if she was wearing a wig that hovered over her head, rather than fitting snuggly to her scalp.

“I think I’ve found the source,” she said.  “It would be best if I show you.  And it may be a good idea if Sergeant Detritus comes with us.”

They set off, Young Sam trotting behind them.  Angua led the way through a maze of small alleys until finally she pointed at a small wooded door set in the side of a stone building.

“Ooh,” said Young Sam, “The air is going snap, crackle and pop!”

Vimes marched up to the door and knocked loudly. 

It was opened a crack and a voice shouted, “Go away!”

The person on the other side of the door then tried to close it but found Detritus had occupied the space.

“Oh, sorry,” said the voice, “what I meant was ‘Do come in!’”

They went inside.  Vimes felt his own hair stand up on end.

“I’m afraid you can’t come any further,” said the owner of the voice.

Detritus picked him up and, in the process, brought the man into contact with Vimes’ hair.  There was a strange crackle. Detritus then pushed the man against the wall.  Instead of sliding down to the floor as Vimes expected, the man appeared to be stuck to it.

“Oh!” Detritus said.  “That doesn’t usually happen.”

“No,” agreed Vimes, “and I think it’s about time we found out why it did this time.”

He marched through a doorway from whence could be heard various popping noises.  The others followed behind.  Suddenly, there was a particularly loud snap, and the members of the watch were showered with tiny little bean-like objects.

“Get back!” ordered a small man, waving what appeared to be a metal ladle at them.

Detritus advanced towards him, crunching on the bean-objects which now covered the floor.

Then Vimes heard Young Sam say, “Oh, these are nice.”

Turning round Vimes saw Young Sam shovelling the mini-beans into his mouth.

“Don’t eat them!” Vimes shouted.

“Why not?” Young Sam replied.  “They’re delicious.”

“And don’t speak with your mouth full!” Vimes added.

Angua brought a handful of the toasted beans to her nose and sniffed them.  “They smell okay,” she said.  Cautiously, she put a few on her tongue and tasted them.  “In fact, they’re not bad, although they’d be better with milk.”

The small man screamed at her, “You fools, I’m not creating a breakfast cereal.  This is my magnum opus, and nothing will now prevent me from achieving it.”

There was an ominous crack, and the cauldron spilt into two.  What was left of its contents oozed onto the floor.

As it did so, Vimes felt his hair resume its normal state flat against his head, and a quick glance at Angua confirmed her hair had also returned to normal.

“Shall I arrest him, sir?” Detritus asked.

“No, we don’t have enough cells to hold everyone in Ankh-Morpork who is determined to blow themselves up.  We’ll leave Captain Carrot to explain the error of his ways, and we can go back to the station.”

“Actually, sir,” Carrot said, “I was wondering if Young Sam could stay with me.  He could learn a very important lesson about life.”

“Good idea!” Vimes replied.  “Learning about life is what today is all about.”  He didn’t add ‘the bits of life it’s safe for him to learn at the moment; Sybil would kill me if he finds out some of the things I know about life.’

***

Later that day, when Vimes had dealt with all sorts of thing Young Sam didn’t need to know about, they made their way back home. 

They were greeted at the front door by Sybil, who said, “Have you had a good day?”

“Oh yes,” Young Sam replied.  “We went to see a man who was exploding rice all over the place.”

Sybil glared at Vimes.

“It’s all right,” Vimes said.  “No-one was injured.”

“Except the man Sergeant Detritus stuck to the wall.  When he slid down, he landed with a loud thud,” Young Sam added.

“No-one was seriously injured.”

“And Captain Carrot had a serious talk with the exploding man,” Young Sam continued.

“What?” Sybil remained unamused.

“That’s the man who was exploding the rice.  And Captain Carrot explained it was always better to be con-struct-iff rather than de-struct-iff, so now he’s going to make breakfast cereal instead.”

“Who, Captain Carrot?”

“No, the man.  And I’m designing the picture to go on the boxes.”

“Oh,” Sybil looked rather confused.  Then, in the manner of mothers everywhere, she said, “Well, so long as you’ve had a good time.  Now, dinner’s almost ready, so go and wash your hands.”  There was a pause and then she added loudly, “And take your muddy boots off, both of you!”

 

 


End file.
